Andreina

I thought I was just another touristbeing taken advantaged of until she walked on her naked feet across the dust covered dirt to show me the sugar cane field –the source of her water.

When I handed her my agua,she took only one sip beforehanding the rest to her friend, Anaxeli.

One less mile they had to hike,and one less chemical they had to ingestfrom the contaminated fieldin the village of no identity.The place where they are neitherDominican or Haitian. The home where they are rejectedbecause they don’t have proof of birth.

That day,the red Nalgene bottle remained bone dry whilethe sugarcane field continued to thrive in a healthy, full bloom.

Metamorphosis

​She remembers it like it was yesterday.There were five of them total,and together, they all cuddled upin a queen-size mattress filled withquilted patterns and feathered blankets.

When she woke up the next morning,the foggy window connected icicles,and the street filled with footprints.Steep hills were closed for the day,and she had the freedom to makeas many snow angels as she wanted.

But for some reason, she laid still,not moving one bit. She was scared.Afraid of judgment and embarrassment,she decided it was easier to keep to herself,until the pain became excruciating.

Her dad rushed in and asked what’s wrong.She cried so loud, the icicles could’ve shattered.Her sisters ran inside and again, she cried more.She blamed it on the red nail polish,but they all knew it was a lie.

The Thumpersnap

The old thumpersnap stood wrinkly and droopyIt was sad because zibzees would not come by to zazing itEvery day, it would sigh and think about traloosing to Djibouti

Maybe there, other zibzees will think thumpersnap is a rubyThumpersnap went la-la-ing side to side, waiting to be zazingedUntil one day, a loud woosh-bang picked up all of its newbies

Off the newbies traloosed, some loopy, and others goofyWam bam! The newbies cacrashed into the a land of new zibzeesSome of the thimpersnippers kaplopped in the soilita of Djibouti

The new thumpersnaps sprouted mighty and fruityThey kicked their cheery legeez back and forthEvery day, schools of zibzees visit the newbies in groupies

The old thumpersnap was no longer wilted or gloomyFrom afar, thumpersnap watched its newbies paplunk its seedsEach time the wind wooshes, they all do the boogie-woogie

Journey to theThe ^ American Dream

For up to 18 hours,the clock doesn’t stop ticking,and her eyes never stop squinting.Just last month, she had to getsurgery for her cataracts.She’s only 53 years old.Wrinkles envelop the eyeswhich we rarely get to look into.Bandages hide the cuts that havebeen pierced by machine needles.Crooked fingers swellfrom the same repetitive motion. We think she’s developing arthritis.

Now rays creep throughand noises echo in her mind as shehumbly thinks about tomorrow. She won’t stop dreaminguntil we all graduate.We won’t stop dreaminguntil we presentmama with the restaurantthat we think is her American Dream.

Qing Ming

Yellow incense shrink,and joss paper ashes floatwhile we meet again.

We pay our respects,even to the neighbors there.We greet, pray, and chant.

A picnic in place --pork belly, tea, and pastry.We feast together.

Once the bright flames die,we sweep, rinse, and dry the tomb.Until next April.